


Twice Shy

by verbaeghe



Series: Russian to Love [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Break Up, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not in the pair, Original Character(s), Sharing a Bed, Some Humor, Tampa Bay Lightning, gratuitous cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-09-29 12:49:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17203715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaeghe/pseuds/verbaeghe
Summary: “Anyway, I’m Tony.” He offers his hand again. “And you’re Mikhail?”“Mikhail is my grandfather.” A grin blooms on his face as he accepts Tony’s hand. “Misha.”No one should have a smile that looks that good. It isn’t fair that Tony is going to have to look at it all year.“It’s great to meet you, Misha,” Tony says.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up one day a couple months ago with this story in my head and now here it is. It is complete, but I'll be posting a chapter a week (or so, depending on my awesome beta's availability. Thank your betas!) (Thanks to my awesome beta ♥)
> 
> There's a few iffy things that I want to warn for about Tony's past relationship. Please see the end notes for more information if you want the warning about it.

“I think we should see other people.”

“Wh-what?” Tony lifts his head to look at Darren, who’s wiping his lubed up hand on the sheets. They’re in the middle of mediocre ‘going away before they won’t see one another for three months’ sex - Darren literally just got off - and Tony is pretty sure he couldn’t have heard him right.

“We’re leaving for different schools tomorrow and, I don’t want to cheat, or anything, so I’m just saying--”

“We’re going to different schools because you picked a different one than the one we agreed on two years ago!” Tony pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I didn’t want to go to a different school than you. You didn’t even tell me you were applying to the one you picked.”

“I didn’t say anything because I thought getting in would be impossible, but it’s my dream school, so there was no way I could turn that down.”

“Wait. Why would you cheat on me?” Tony asks when the words catch up to him.

“I wouldn’t intend to, but you know.” Darren shrugs. “No one stays with their high school sweetheart, Tone.”

“Why did you stick around an extra year, then? And why did you wait until now to spring this on me?” Tony frowns. “Don’t call me Tone.”

“I told you that I was taking a gap year.”

“Yeah, so we could go to school together!” Tony suddenly remembers that he’s naked and pulls the covers over. It’s not a protective shield. It _isn’t_.

“I never said that.” Darren shakes his head.

“Huh?”

“I never said my gap year was me waiting for you.”

“I’m pretty sure that you did?”

And now Darren is frowning too. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why did we originally agree on the same school, then?”

“Well, maybe I changed my mind,” he snaps. Tony opens his mouth to argue it further, but Darren is already talking again, “As for putting this-” he indicates between the two of them  “-off, it was because I knew that you’d be dramatic about it.”

He pauses and tries to think of a time when he’s ever been dramatic about anything. Nothing comes to him. Well, he isn’t about to start now. “Okay, well, um, my clothes won’t pack themselves, so I’ve gotta go.”

“Tony, stop.” Darren puts a hand on his arm and he does stop, looking back. He won’t lie, he’s more than just a bit hopeful that Darren will say that this was all just a prank, that he’s kidding. “Let me get you off. One last time, for old time’s sake, y’know.”

Tony sags. Darren really is tossing the last three years aside like they mean nothing. “No thanks.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind that much and it won’t take that long. I can--”

“I said no thanks.” Tony starts to dress, pulling on his clothes. Angrily at first, and then just sort of dejectedly. He also feels super awkward, but that part is whatever.

He debates not even saying anything before he leaves but decides to be the bigger person. “Good luck at school, Darren,” Tony says quietly before slipping out of the room.

He makes himself take calm, measured steps down the hall, going so far as to stop by Taylor’s room on the way. “Hey, I gotta go pack, but I’ll text you later so we can get dinner tonight, or something.” His voice sounds normal enough, so job well done.

“Okay, yeah. Catch you later,” Taylor replies, not even looking up from his video game. Tony nods, even though Taylor isn’t looking, and heads home.

//

The drive to school is terrible. Well, that isn’t fair. The drive is nice and his parents are excited for him. The problem is really just him and the way what happened keeps playing in his head over and over. He can’t believe that Darren dumped him in the middle of sex. Who does that sort of thing even happen to?

Well, he knows who.

So once they arrive, Tony puts on a brave face and lets his parents drag him from place to place. Checking him in here and there, getting this booklet and that schedule and those keys and…

Look, he knows he should be paying attention, but he doesn’t think he’d have enjoyed this even without the broken heart.

They pile back into the car when it’s finally, mercifully, done and head across campus to where the dorms are. Going by the list of what he was allowed to bring, Tony isn’t expecting much, and he’s still sort of disappointed at how small the living space is when they open the door to his shared room up on the fourth floor.

“Good thing there’s an elevator,” his dad says as Tony sets his gym bag on the bed that he’s claiming as his own. He might have been up for rock-paper-scissors over it, but his roommate isn’t here yet, so his loss.

Tony hears a door close and turns, seeing that his dad has closed himself in the bathroom. Of course he has. At least he’s making himself at home. Tony smirks to himself.

“You have such a nice little desk over here,” his mom says, drawing his attention away. He sees her settling into the rickety chair in front of it.

“Yeah, I really like it.” Tony forces a smile and his mom deflates.

“Honey, if you aren’t ready for this, we can go back home, you don’t have to--”

“No, I’m ready for this, mom, I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” She drags out the u and Tony can tell that she isn’t sold, but luckily his dad comes out of the bathroom before she can say anything else.

“Let’s go get dinner now, because I don’t wanna be driving those four hours back at like midnight,” he says.

Tony has never been so glad to hear his dad ramble out a barely cohesive sentence.

 

 

They don’t come up with Tony when they get back from dinner, though his mom really wants to.

“Promise that that you’ll at least text me every day.”

“I will, mom,” Tony replies.

“You didn’t promise!” She looks like she’s about to pop the door open and pull him back into the car.

“Mom, I promise. Texts every day. And I‘ll call at least once a week.” He smiles at her.

“Okay.” She looks mollified. For now.

“Take care, son,” Dad says, putting the car back into drive.

“Bye guys, drive safe.” Tony waves when they pull away from the curb. He stands there for a second because he knows that it will make his mom happy to think that he’s watching them leave. He heads inside as soon as they turn out of sight.

Tony pauses when he gets to his door, because there’s now a sign welcoming him and a Mikhail Sergachev for fall. He debates tearing it down, but no one else has, and someone took the time to draw those leaves all around the names, so he just decides it can stay. It sorta seems like a bad idea to have his name right on the door like this, but at least he knows his roommate’s name now.

The roommate whose empty side of the room indicates that he still hasn’t arrived. “Maybe _he_ isn’t ready for all of this,” Tony mutters to himself as he gathers up his things to shower.

//

Someone is finally sitting on the other bed when Tony gets back from his first day of classes. He’s cute, and that’s terrible, because Tony isn’t supposed to be able to think anyone is cute right now.

Tony gives a little shake of the head, trying to clear his thoughts, and crosses the room. “Hi, Mikhail? I’m Tony.” He extends his hand out to Mikhail, who doesn’t even look away from the computer in his lap, and Tony’s thinking that he’s off to a terrible start when he realizes that Mikhail has earbuds in. He reaches out and places his hand on Mikhail’s shoulder...who flails like Tony has stabbed him.

“Whoa,” Tony says, jerking back, just missing getting an arm upside his head.

“Sorry, you scared me,” Mikhail says, pulling his earbuds out. His English is lightly accented. It’s hardly noticeable. Tony already likes how it sounds. Shit.

“You don’t say,” Tony replies. Mikhail’s looking pretty sheepish, so Tony decides to rescue him. “Anyway, I’m Tony.” He offers his hand again. “And you’re Mikhail?”

“Mikhail is my grandfather.” A grin blooms on his face as he accepts Tony’s hand. “Misha.”

No one should have a smile that looks that good. It isn’t fair that Tony is going to have to look at it all year.

“It’s great to meet you, Misha,” Tony says.

//

“I’ll get it,” Misha says, hopping up when there’s a knock at the door. “Hey, Ilya! You’re early.”

“I am not early. You just lost track of time,” Ilya replies. He sort of sounds like a dick. Curiosity gets the better of him, so Tony gets up and peeks around the corner of their little foyer. Wow, talk about a Russian stereotype.

“Tony, this is Ilya. We met at Russian club. He lives in our building so we’re going to walk over to our meeting together.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Tony holds out his hand. Ilya looks at it like it’s dirty and he almost checks because of it, but Ilya finally accepts it.

“We have to go,” Ilya says, dropping his hand almost immediately and turning his attention back to Misha.

“See you in a bit, Tony,” Misha says on the way out the door.

“Yeah, bye.” Tony catches the flash of a smile Misha shoots at him before the door snaps closed. “I wish he smiled a little bit less,” Tony mutters to himself as he throws himself back down onto his bed.

Maybe _he_ should look into joining a club.

Tony lays there like a lump for fifteen minutes or so before he makes himself get and head downstairs to the lobby to see what’s on the pin board. There’s like ten or twelve clubs that are currently seeking new members, but none of them are of any interest to him. (Card counting? _Really_?) He’s about to give up and head back upstairs when he sees a flyer in the upper left corner for hockey tryouts. The font is weird, so it reads more like ‘hookey tryovts’, but there’s an ice rink and cartoon guys skating with sticks, so he’s pretty sure…?

He spends a couple of minutes waffling, but honestly, it’s the first thing since Darren broke up with him that feels like normal to him. Tony grabs one of the tabs, shooting off a text to verify the date and times...and that it’s really hockey...and is surprised that he isn’t even up to his floor yet when he gets his affirmative answer.

He calls his mom to ask her if she can bring his gear over on Sunday.

 

 

The first thing that Tony notices when he steps onto the ice on Monday afternoon is that Misha is here. He’s here, and he looks surprised to see Tony. Tony is surprised to see him, too, honestly. They could of had another thing to talk about, and--

Tony gets a little lost in watching Misha skate while he warms up. It’s so smooth and effortless. Tony might be a little bit jealous if it wasn’t so nice.

Misha skates over to him after a few laps. “Hey, good luck.”

“Yeah, you too.” Tony pauses. “Your skating says you don’t really need any, though.” Misha smiles at him and, shit, did he just flirt on accident? The whistle blows and he gets a stick tap to his shin pads before Misha glides away.

Ugh.

“Hi!” Tony pulls his eyes away from Misha and looks into a set of grey ones. “I’m Ross!” Tony introduces himself and offers his glove for bumps. Ross taps them, then, “So, uh, tell me about your friend?” He smiles big and wide, it’s sort of a little predatory. “Or is he your _friend_?”

“He’s my roommate,” Tony answers.

“Ah.” Ross is staring the direction that Misha went. “And, uh, just that? Definitely nothing else?”

“Yeah, just that.” Tony pauses. “Why?”

“Just wondering. Catch you later!” Ross flashes him a little glove-handed wave and takes off down the ice. When he drops down next to Misha a minute later both his stretching and smile are more than just a little exaggerated.

Tony shakes his head and looks for a puck to warm up with.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony scores his first goal on his second shot, which happens during his fourth shift at the first home game of the season. And, when he turns around looking to hug someone, it’s Misha who is there launching into his arms. Suddenly the cheering from the stands is hardly more than a quiet drone. And the dejection of the other team’s players, which is usually so satisfying, doesn’t mean anything to him. Not when Misha is this close and smiling so brightly.

“How did you get here so fast?” Tony asks through laughter. Last he’d seen, Misha was practically out at the red line.

“No one gets to celebrate your first goal with you before me,” Misha replies, patting his helmet. “Now, lets go get your bumps.” Misha pushes him towards the bench, smacking his ass when he goes.

It’s pretty good so far as first goals go.

  
  
  
The mood in locker room is high, which one would expect after the first win of the season. Tony weaves his way through a bunch of guys, who are all in various states of dress and celebration. He isn’t interested in any of that, though, because he’s trying to find Misha to ask him about going out to celebrate.

He feels like he’s looked everywhere, so he gives up, throwing himself down into his stall next to Ross.

“You do not look happy enough for someone that got a Gordie Howe hatty,” Ross says with a grin.

“I can’t find Misha anywhere,” Tony replies with a frown. Ross joins in.

“Oh, his Russian friend called him out of the room.” His frown deepens. “I was trying to work my magic too, so it was pretty annoying.”

“Uh, sorry?” Tony says absently, looking around for his hat. He shoves it on his head. “Thanks,” he remembers to throw over his shoulder when he’s making his way to the door.

“How can you be so friendly with that roommate of yours?” Ilya is asking when Tony opens the door. He pauses, trying to decide if he should make himself known or not. “He isn't even Russian!”

“What does it matter to you?” Misha asks in return. Not an answer, really, but the reply could have been worse.

“He’s just. Look, I know that my roommate would switch places with you. Why don’t we do that?” Misha doesn’t say anything, but he must do something, because Ilya is continuing, “No, c’mon. Hear me out! We’re both Russian so it would make more sense for _us_ to room together. We can practice and stuff.” Another pause. “Besides, he’s so weird looking.”

“My Russian doesn’t need any practice,”  Misha says before he continues in Russian.  

Ilya laughs so loud that it echoes around the hallway.

Tony sags onto the wall. He never thought about it before, but he’s...weird looking?

He pulls out his phone and shoots a text off to Taylor.

_Am I weird looking?_

Tony watches for a minute while Ilya tries to lure Misha away. Tony’s just wondering what Misha could be sticking around for when his phone vibrates in his hand.

_What?_

_You know, my looks?_  
_Weird?  
Are they?_

_You’re my bro  
_ _I’ve never thought about it_

_What did Darren see in me?_

_Ask him_

Oh, well that helps a lot. Tony frowns at his phone, then shoves it into his pocket as he turns and heads back into the locker room.

//

Tony worries over the whole issue for a couple days before he finally texts Darren about it.

_Why did you like me?_

The little speech bubble bounces forever before Tony finally gets a reply.

_What do you mean?_

_Why’d you ask me out?_

_You’re nice_

That doesn’t really help, so Tony presses for more information.

_Is that all?_

_No. Let’s see, You’re funny and have a good sense of humor_  
_Dating you drove Taylor crazy.  
_ _You know he got over it. Eventually._

Tony bites his bottom lip, debating furiously with himself even as he types out his next question.

_But you don’t think I’m good looking?_

He quickly hits send before he can change his mind.

_I mean, you’re cute-ish in that goofy, awkward way_

_Oh. Okay, thanks_

Tony is going to leave it at that, but his phone goes off again before he can place it down on his dresser.

_Who are you trying to impress?_  
_Do you finally have a rebound crush?  
_ _That’s great, but here’s some free advice: don’t smile at them_

Tony squints at the screen, not sure what Darren means.

_What? Why?  
_ _I’m not trying to impress anyone_

He doesn’t want to give Darren any credit here, but a rebound crush does make some sense, now that he thinks about it. He can’t stop thinking about Misha or his smile, and he might be a little too hung up on what Misha thinks about his looks.

He’s wondering how long rebound crushes usually last when his phone dings at him again.

_Sure you’re not_  
_And just trust me_  
_It isn’t pretty_

_My smile?_

_No, your pointy face  
_ _Yes, your smile!!_

Goofy and awkward looking, a pointy face, _and_ a bad smile? Shit, how did he not know these things about himself? Tony throws his phone on the dresser and buries his stupid not-cute pointy face in his pillow.

He was the one who asked, so he should have been ready for the answer.

//

Tony is fidgeting over his open laptop and the paper that the isn’t working on. He can’t stop thinking about Ilya laughing at whatever Misha said about him, and he just, if he’s weird looking like Ilya and Darren both said, maybe Misha would be happier rooming with Ilya.

There’s also all these feelings that keep popping up when Misha smiles at him. Or offers to bring him back his favorite burger after Russian club. Actually, any of the ten other things that have made him feel too much when it comes to Misha just in the last week alone would do as an example. He may not have any experience with rebound feelings, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know that it would probably be best to take himself out of this particular equation.

Either way, this is something that Tony can easily fix.

“Do you want me to switch with Ilya’s roommate?” Tony asks. It’s said more to his computer than Misha, but it’s loud enough, so go him.

“What?” Misha looks up from his laptop screen.

“I heard you guys talking the other day about you switching with his roommate and I thought, maybe it would just be easier if I moved? That way you don’t have to talk his roommate into moving?” Tony plays with a thread on his blanket. “If you need a roommate that you actually, you know...” Tony can’t finish that sentence out loud.

“What gives you the idea that I don’t like my current roommate? I think he’s pretty damn decent, actually,” Misha says.

That isn’t what Tony meant, but he can roll with it. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. How could you think otherwise?”

Tony shrugs. “I mean, Ilya said that I’m weird looking and then he laughed at whatever your reply was.”

“I told him to shut up before I made him look weird. And then he thought that was funny that I think I’m intimidating,” Misha says. “I totally would have kicked his ass though.”

Tony figures that it’s nice enough that Misha offered to make his friend ugly. Too.

“Ah, okay.” Tony glances down at his own computer and the blank page where the paper that he’s supposed to be working on right now is. “I just, I know there’s better things to see than me first thing in morning. And stuff.”

“Not sure I agree with that,” Misha replies.

“What?” Tony’s attention snaps back up, he can feel his cheeks warming.

“Just calling it like I see it.” Misha’s smile makes an appearance right on time, and this isn’t going the way that Tony expected.

“Oh, well. If you’re sure, then.” Tony goes back to fidgeting with the loose string on his blanket.

“Totally am one-hundred percent sure that I don’t want any other roommate.”

“Okay, cool.” Tony grimaces because he might sound like an idiot now.

“Okay, cool,” Misha echoes. So maybe not.

They settle into the quiet, comforting sound of their keyboards clicking.  

//

Tony can’t find his lucky hat anywhere. It’s been over a week since he last saw it, and he’s starting to think about panicking, because their next game may not be until after break, but he needs to have it, okay? He’s looked in all the places that it could possibly be and it’s just nowhere. And he hasn't even be able to find a replacement because it’s apparently out of production now.

“I can’t believe that it’s gone,” Tony whines, throwing himself down on his bed.

“How can you even replace a lucky hat?” Misha asks him.

“It’s me that’s lucky, because the hat actually fit,” Tony replies with a sigh. “You don’t want to see how ball caps usually look on me.”

“You say that, and yet…” Misha doesn’t finish his sentence.

“And yet what?” Tony raises an eyebrow.

“I’m just saying.”

“You didn’t say anything,” Tony counters.

“I have to go to Russian club.” Misha starts for the door.

“But you didn’t say anything!” Tony yells at the door as Misha closes it. Tony can hear him laughing as he walks away.

//

Tony’s jolted from sleep when Misha cries out. He lays there for a second before a little whimper from Misha makes him push himself up and flip on his tiny end table lamp.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, even though it doesn’t look like Misha is awake. He’s moving around quite a bit, almost thrashing, and Tony doesn’t know what he should do.

Until Misha cries out again, and then he jumps out of bed and crosses the room. “Hey. Hey, Misha...wake up.” Tony places a hand on Misha’s arm, hoping to nudge him awake…and promptly gets popped right in the nose for his trouble.

“Ow, shit,” Tony says, his hands going to his nose as he lands on his ass.

“Oh my god, did I hit you? I’m so sorry!” Oh, so _now_ Misha is awake. He tumbles out of the bed to crouch down by Tony.

“It’s okay, I always sort of thought I needed a bigger nose,” Tony says, trying for a joke. Misha’s face falls.  

“Shit, sorry, let me get you some ice,” Misha says, scrambling over to their small fridge.

“This is the only ice we have?” he asks, holding up the small silicone trays of lightning-shaped ice cubes.

“My mom thought they were cute,” Tony replies.

“Oh, great, now I insulted your mom, too, I’m so fucking…” Misha shakes his head then mutters to himself in Russian while he dumps the cubes into a sandwich bag.

“No, it’s okay,” Tony says as Misha drops down to his knees next to him. He holds his hand out for the bag, but Misha is already pressing it lightly to the bridge of his nose.

“Is that the right spot?”

“No, here, it’s…” Tony could almost swear that he hears a heavy exhale escape Misha when he takes hold of his wrist and guides the ice into the proper place. Maybe he shouldn’t have grabbed Misha without warning. “I’m sorry.”

“What are _you_ apologizing for?” Misha huffs out a little laugh.

“I...don’t know.” A small, nervous laugh escapes Tony too, and then they just sort of look at one another in the dim light of the room. Tony spends a moment lost in the way Misha’s long bangs fall into his eyes. He definitely isn’t thinking about how soft the hair looks or how much he wants to reach out and brush it back. “Are you, um. Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I was just having a dream, or something.” Misha shakes his head, shifts and sits down next to Tony. “I don’t even remember it, so whatever. I’m fine.”

“You don’t really sound fine,” Tony replies. He tugs the ice bag free from Misha’s hand, throwing it in the general direction of the bathroom. It hits the door, but whatever, it’s future Tony’s problem. He looks back to Misha. “I mean, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but maybe it would help?”

“It isn’t a big deal.”

“So? That doesn’t mean that you won’t feel better talking about it.”

“I’m.” Misha pauses, running a hand through his hair. It looks so good when it falls back into his face. Ugh, when will Tony get over this rebound thing? “Sometimes I really miss home and my family. It isn’t like I want to leave, or anything, but some days just aren’t the greatest, and I don’t even know what makes them that way.” He pauses, looks up at Tony. “There’s only one thing that makes me feel better on those days.”

“Well, you should spend more time doing whatever that is, then.” Tony isn’t the best with advice, but that seems like an easy one.

“I’m not sure if…” Misha shakes his head before asking, “You think so?”

“Yeah, I do.” Tony presses his lips together and curves them up into what his sister always calls his smile-adjacent face. He hopes that it’s reassuring and not creepy, like his brother always says it is.

“This has helped, thanks.” Misha’s relaxed a bit, and Tony thinks he knows what will help the rest of the way, even though _he_ isn’t family.

“Hey, come on.” Tony gets up and tugs on Misha until he stands too.

“Where we going?”

“Just over here.” He ushers a confused-looking Misha into his bed and then crawls in after him. Tony pulls the blankets up around them and settles. “Sometimes me and my sister or brother would crawl into bed with each other, or all together, when we were little. If we were having a bad day, because sometimes just being not alone helps, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Misha says quietly. Misha looks him in the eye, then glances down at...his lips? Tony swallows at the thought. “How’s your nose?” he asks, touching it gently.

Oh, that makes more sense, for sure.

“It’s fine, really. Don’t worry about it.” Tony grabs his hand and pulls it down, absentmindedly stroking his thumb back and forth across his knuckles. “You should sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” he replies, even as he buries a yawn in Tony’s pillow.

“Sure, you aren’t," Tony replies softly.

“I’m not.”

“Uh huh.” He realizes what he’s doing, and debates stopping, but it seems to be helping Misha, so he continues. He softens his touch along Misha’s hand, slowing it a bit. “Close your eyes,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper.

Misha doesn’t fight him this time, and not even a minute passes before his breathing evens out.

Tony knows that he probably shouldn’t have done this, but again, it’s future Tony’s problem. He rolls over, snaps the light off, and settles down, hoping that it won’t take too long to fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Tony sees when he wakes up is Misha’s smile. He’s still sleepy and he looks so soft and, _shit_. Past Tony is an asshole who didn’t think this through.

Tony swallows nervously. “You, uh, you look better this morning.”

“I feel better, thanks.” His accent is stronger than usual, and Tony is just going to ignore that.

“You can, um, you can do this whenever, okay?” Tony knows he shouldn’t do this to himself, _knows_ that it will make all of his stupid feelings worse. But Misha looks relaxed and content, maybe even a little bit happy, and he helped that happen, so he isn’t about to take it away. “Anytime, it’s no problem. I promise.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Misha says, his smile going wider, and honestly, that already makes the whole thing worth it.

  
  
Misha starts climbing into his bed at least every other night after that (honestly, it’s even more). He had no idea that Misha was having such a rough time, but he isn’t going to complain. First of all, he offered. And second, Tony definitely likes waking up tangled all up in Misha. He’s solid and warm, and they fit together so well, better than Tony has ever...look, Tony feels like he means something to someone again, and it’s nice.

Even if he’s just, like, Misha’s living teddy bear, or whatever.

//

Tony’s expecting a text from Misha about meeting up for dinner, so he thumbs his phone open without looking when it goes off, and now his mood is soured, because it’s a shitty text from Darren.

_So, how’s the rebound thing going?_

_I don’t know what you’re talking about_

_Lol, sure_

Tony frowns. He doesn’t want to talk to Darren, not even via text.

_Are you bored? Nothing else to do, or?_

_I just thought I’d see how you’re doing, Tone_

_Well, I’m fine, so_  
_Don’t call me Tone_

_I’m just trying to do you a favor here_

_I didn’t ask you for any favors_  
_And I don’t have any rebound thing going on_

Maybe that isn’t the truth, but he isn’t telling Darren that. Ever.

His phone goes off again, but this time it isn’t Darren. Tony spends a second lingering over the ridiculous face Misha is pulling in his contact photo before reading the text. Misha wants to meet at Tony’s favorite place in twenty-ish minutes, which is perfect.

_Sorry, gtg_

The bubbles are bouncing furiously in the message window when Tony decides to block Darren’s number.

It’s a relief when they stop moving and go away.   

//

Misha invited Tony to a party like a week ago, and Tony has spent way too much time trying to figure out what to wear pretty much every minute since. And now it’s at the point where they’re supposed to leave in like ten minutes and he’s still staring at his closet at a total loss about what he should wear. It’s stupid, because it isn’t like Misha hasn’t seen all of his clothes. Besides, he knows that this isn’t a...a…

Tony isn’t even going to finish that thought.

Misha comes out of the bathroom with a flourish. His clothes fit him perfectly, tight in all the right places and his hair is...god, Tony still just wants to run his fingers through it and why can’t he just get over this already?

“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” Misha asks, smirking.

“I can’t decide between these two,” Tony replies, holding up a couple of dark-colored henleys.

“Definitely neither of them.” Misha reaches into his side of the closet and pulls out this lavender button down shirt Tony has for special occasions. “You should wear this one.”

Tony raises an eyebrow at it. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Okay.” Tony reaches for the shirt and slips into it.

They decide to walk across campus since it isn’t that far or really all that cold. They’re about halfway there when Tony remembers to ask, “Am I even going to know anyone there?”

“You will after I introduce you.”

“So, no,” Tony says with a little laugh.

“But you _will_!” Misha insists. “Oh! Ilya. You know him.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s...good.” Tony shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. He’d rather know no one at that rate, but he can’t really tell Misha that.

They come to the end of the cul-de-sac that they’re on and it’s immediately obvious which house is having the party. If the noise hadn't given the place away, the solo-cup-littered lawn would have.

It isn’t late enough that anyone is passed out on the front lawn, but they apparently aren’t early either, since there’s some idiot throwing up in the bushes. Tony pulls his attention away from that lovely sight and settles it on the front door, fighting the urge to shield his eyes against the pulsating lights inside and trying to get used to the feel of the beat the music's thumping to.

He jumps when Misha grabs his hand. “Come on, I found out where everyone is,” he says, slipping his phone into his back pocket and pulling Tony towards the house. Tony tries to take in the house as they make their way through it, but they’re moving pretty quickly through the crowd and most of the rooms look the same. They pass through the house completely and Misha pulls him up to a small fire pit.  

“Hey, guys. This is Tony. Tony, this is Vladdy, Nikita, Boris, you know Ilya, and Taylor.” Misha is totally beaming; he must really like these guys.

Tony wants to laugh, just a little bit, because there’s all the Russian stereotypes lined up perfectly. Cute, Bubbly Russian, Brooding, Bitchy Russian, Russian Who Can’t Grow Facial Hair, but is Trying, Ilya The Asshole, but then he gets to the end of the line. That guy is Decidedly Not Russian.

“Taylor doesn’t seem like a very Russian name,” Tony says slowly. The group laughs, aside from Ilya, who just rolls his eyes. Tony’s come to the conclusion that Ilya is never going to like him, but the feeling is mutual at this point, so it’s whatever.

“I’m not, I just like Russian club,” Taylor says.

“I didn’t know that Russian club was open to non-Russians.” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“It usually isn’t, Taylor is a special case,” Ilya jumps to say.

Misha leans in close, whispers in his ear, “Taylor likes Boris.”

Tony’s pretty sure that Boris likes Taylor too after watching them interact for just a couple of seconds. What Tony wouldn’t give to have Misha look at him the way that they look at one another. Tony really needs to concentrate on anything else right now.

“My best friend from back home is named Taylor too.” Tony cocks his head. “Actually, the two of you sort of look ali--”

“Anyway, we’re going to go get a drink,” Misha interrupts. They receive a flurry of farewells as he pulls Tony away from the Russian guys (plus Taylor) and back into the house. He’s relieved that he seems to have passed the delightfully short interview.

They step into the kitchen, where Misha is quick to hand him a drink that is a lot of vodka and little else, before they continue on their way to the room that’s serving as the dance floor.

“Oh, I love this song,” Misha says, tugging Tony out onto the dance floor. The song is one of those weird ones that’s sort of slow and fast at the same time and...he can’t dwell on that right now because Misha is pulling him close, muttering the words under his breath as he presses their foreheads together and. And.

Jesus. This is amazing. Tony’s heart feels full, and it’s beating fast, like it wants to burst. There’s no way that his feelings are rebound _anything_ , because dancing has never felt like so _much_ before. His skin feels like little bolts of electricity are flitting all across the surface and he needs to just...just...

Tony places his free hand onto the back of Misha’s neck, keeping their foreheads tilted together while Misha pushes himself so close that the whole length of their bodies are touching and he’s thinking that maybe this is it, that Misha does want him. Maybe he should tip his face, close the gap between them and press his lips to Misha’s and...and…

There’s an empty space where Misha was a second ago.

“What the hell, Ilya?” Misha asks as Tony opens his eyes back up. Ilya is pulling Misha away. He’s saying something in Misha’s ear, but there’s no way Tony can hear it over the music. Misha frowns, but gives him a little nod and then they start moving to the beat.  

So he’s left standing there alone with just his drink to keep him company on the dance floor, just watching as they dance away from him. They move so fluidly together, looking way better than Tony could have looked dancing with Misha, because Tony has never moved that smoothly in his life. The song changes, and Tony realizes that he’s still standing in the middle of the floor like an asshole. He retreats to the nearest wall, where he follows them through the crowd with his eyes, losing them when they disappear through the far door.

Maybe a dance is just a dance.

He doesn’t see Misha again until he and Ilya are heading out the front door draped around one another.

Well. It isn’t like he didn’t know that he doesn’t really have a chance with Misha. That it was obvious Ilya likes Misha. What he didn’t know is that apparently Misha likes him back. Tony places his half-empty cup down on a nearby table and leaves.

His eyes are watering because of the cold air and no other reason while he walks home.

Tony goes up and showers, where he angrily scrubs the gel out of his hair. He doesn’t know why he thought he could even...that he’s someone that Misha would...he’s just so _stupid_.  

  
  
Tony’s hardly in bed for five minutes before Misha slips into the room. He climbs straight into Tony’s bed, snakes an arm around him when he says, "I’m sorry I left you, but Ilya was...God, let's never do that again. Drunk friends that guilt you into walking them home are the worst."

“You’re so cold.” His dumb heart gives a relieved pang at the news that Misha didn’t hook up with Ilya, because now he can pretend for a little while longer that he isn’t ridiculously, hopelessly in love with someone who doesn’t want him back.

He can pretend there’s something he can do to make Misha want him.

“Well, warm me up, then,” Misha replies in his ear.

Tony shivers, but rests his hand on Misha’s, rubbing it gently as he drifts off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see the end notes if you need a Darren warning, because this is his chapter to, erm, shine.

“What are you doing for break?” Tony asks, looking up from his computer. He hopes he sounds conversational, but the truth is he realized a couple days ago that Misha won’t have time to go back to Russia over the winter break and now he’s sort of worried about him staying behind alone.

So, he might have already texted his mom about inviting Misha home.

“I’ll just hang out on campus.” Misha says from the spot next to him. Yeah, he pretty much never leaves Tony’s bed. It’s a blessing and a curse at this point. “At least it will be quiet.”

“Why don’t you, um.” Tony pauses, bites at his bottom lip. “Don’t stay here. Come to my place. I know you don't celebrate Christmas until later, but my parents still do a nice thing and you won’t be alone and...” Tony trails off and shrugs.

“You really want that? To be with me on your Christmas? For all of break?” His smile is small and happy and it makes Tony’s heart pang.

“I mean, it won’t be quiet and you’ll have to share a bed with me. But, yeah.”

“I don’t mind those things,” Misha replies.

“You sure? My brother probably won’t pay you any attention, but my little sister is nosy and will probably pay you _all_ the attention.”

“No, it sounds great. I’d love to. Thanks.”

Tony is _not_ shaking with any sort of excitement or nerves when he texts his mom to let her know that Misha is definitely coming. He gets a confirmation from her asking if she should come get them, which he thinks about it for a minute before dropping his phone and looking back to his screen.

“What’cha doing?” Misha asks.

“I’m...hold on a minute.” Tony bites on his tongue absentmindedly as he searches out the bookmark he needs.

“Holding.”.

“Okay, so, we can take a late bus after your last class tomorrow, which would take most of the night because it stops like every thirty minutes, and arrive home the next morning.” Tony looks up from the ticket screen on his computer. “Or my mom can come down and get us on Saturday.”

“Why don’t we just take the bus?” Misha decides. “That’s fine with me.”

“Okay, sure. I’ll book the tickets.”

“Perfect.”

They look at one another for a minute. “Oh, right, I’ll just do that, then.” Misha laughs and Tony’s blushing as he clicks the button to book the tickets.

//

“Are those seats as uncomfortable as they look?” Misha asks as he stows his suitcase overhead.

“Nah, they’re alright,” Tony replies, trying to ignore the way that one dumb light is glowing behind Misha and making him look like an angel.

“I guess so,” Misha agrees after he settles himself down. He leans close and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. “Sorry,” he mutters, keying it open. Tony watches him hit the Instagram icon before deciding that maybe he should tell him about, well, everything.

“Hey, there’s something I need to tell you,” Tony says just as the bus pulls out of the station.

“Do you have a boyfriend back home that you didn’t tell me about?” Misha pockets his phone and looks up at Tony. He’s sort of tense, but Tony doesn’t know why. “Because maybe I should sleep on the couch if that’s the case.”

“No, I don’t have any boyfriends. Just an ex.” Misha relaxes. Which helps him too. “But if we run into him, it will be the first time that I’ve seen him since we broke up.” Tony shakes his head. “I know that I’m kind of weird no matter what, but I’m sure I’ll be extra weird in that situation.”

“I don’t think you’re weird,” Misha says. He pushes up the armrest, then sort of slides down in his chair, placing his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Misha shifts around a bit, settles more solidly onto Tony’s shoulder. It’s so comfortable and he wishes so hard that Misha did this stuff because he wants Tony, but he knows it’s just the family fill-in thing.

“Did you dump him? Is he going to be begging for you back?” Misha asks. Tony thinks he can hear a smile in Misha’s voice.

“Yeah, no.” Tony shakes his head. “I’m definitely the dumpee and not the dumper.”

“Well, that just seems fake,” Misha replies. He snuggles closer, takes a deep breath. And Tony’s feeling the need to be talking about anything Not Darren.

“You’re tired, huh?” Tony brings his hand up and pats Misha on the head. He’s sort of wishing that Misha wasn’t wearing a knit cap, but it’s whatever.

“Uh huh. I’m really looking forward to this break.”

“I don’t know how much of a break it will be with my family there poking at you the whole time,” Tony replies, huffing a quiet laugh.

“It’ll be perfect,” Misha says. “No, don’t stop, please,” he adds when Tony starts to pull his hand away.

“Oh, sorry,” Tony goes back to what he was doing before, which is really mostly petting Misha.

Misha hums. “Already perfect,” he mutters before his breathing evens out.

Tony can’t help but watch him sleep for a few minutes. He sort of feels like a creeper, but Misha is so close and he looks so pretty snuggled into Tony’s shoulder like that.

He sighs before laying his head on Misha’s.

//

His mom adores Misha, and of course she does. He’s polite and helpful and offers to do things around the house constantly. His brother is indifferent, as expected, but his sister blushes and giggles around Misha a lot, and honestly, well, it isn’t like Tony can blame her. He spends enough time doing the exact same thing. Blushing, not the other part.

Even dad loves him.

He fits in so perfectly with Tony’s family that it almost hurts.

“You should bring that boy around more, Anthony,” his mom says after Misha gathers the dinner dishes and heads into the kitchen.

“Maybe I will, Mom,” Tony answers, his eyes lingering on the door that Misha just disappeared through.

//

They’ve been sitting on the couch playing video games for three hours, give or take, when Tony remembers that he has his sister’s Approved Items Christmas List now. He pauses the game and throws his head back on the couch cushion dramatically. “Aww, man.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really.” Tony sighs and continues, “I just remembered that I didn’t get my sister’s Christmas present yet.”

“Do you know what you want to get her?”

“Well, I have this list of approved gifts from her, so yes?” Tony replies.

Misha laughs. “We have your mom’s car, right? So let’s go get it.”

“You don’t have to go with me. You could stay here and relax, or whatever.” Tony gestures vaguely with his controller. “Don’t you want some time to yourself?”

“I sure don’t.” Misha tosses down his own. He stands and stretches. Tony does _not_ spend any time with his eyes lingering on the little peek of tummy the action affords him. Misha is smirking when Tony looks up at him. “Come on, then,” he says, pulling Tony to his feet.

 

  
  
They spend some time in Old Navy getting a couple of the shirts (this size only!!!) she listed, and then they stop by Starbucks for a gift card.

“That’s enough shopping, we should get some lunch,” Misha says. He’s walking backwards, indicating to Tony that he should follow him to the food court.

Tony pauses, debating. He does want to get one more thing for his sister, but also, his stomach is rumbling at the thought of bourbon chicken. And now he wants it so bad that he’d even take that gross rice that comes with it when they’re out of noodles if he had to.

Not to mention Misha, who looks so alluring, with the face and the gestures and the pleading eyebrows.

Maybe her last gift can wait.

Misha goes off to get a slice of pizza while he gets his own food. He finds a table over in the section with the good chairs and settles down, waiting for Misha to find him from the other side of the food court.

“There was no need to wait,” Misha says, dropping his tray. Tony just shrugs and picks up his fork. “What’s the deal with the weird chicken?” Misha asks just before he takes his first bite.

Tony holds up a finger, chewing thoughtfully while he tries to think of how to explain the greatness that is bourbon chicken. He doesn’t get the chance to say anything, though, because Darren walks up. Right, yeah, this is totally perfect and fine. No red flags here.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Darren says to him before turning his attention on Misha. He smiles and it makes Tony’s heart clench. “And who is this?”

Tony huffs. “This is Misha. He’s my roommate at school. Misha, this is Darren. He’s my ex.”

“I’m sure Tony’s told you all about me,” Darren says, holding out his hand.

Misha looks at it but doesn’t take it before he glances back up. “No, actually.”

“Oh, well, maybe it was because he wanted to keep you all to himself.” Darren leans in, his eyes wash over Misha’s face and downward. “I can see why.”

“Um. What?” Misha shifts in his chair.

Tony wants to say something, but he doesn’t think Darren would even acknowledge him at this point. He’s too into Misha.

“You’re pretty hot, that’s gotta be part of it.” Darren pauses, appraises Misha. It’s like Tony isn’t even sitting here.

“You know, I just remembered that I forgot to pick something up and the place closes soon. We should go, Tony.” Misha grabs Tony by the arm. Tony is staring at Misha’s hand on his arm when he continues, “Great to meet you, but bye.”

“Hey, but I--”

“Sorry, we have to go,” Misha says.

“Well, Tony can give you my number,” Darren says with a smile. “He doesn’t seem to use it anymore, but I’m sure he still knows it.”

“Yeah, super,” Misha replies, pulling Tony away. He’s relieved to leave Darren behind, but also sort of bummed about his bourbon chicken.

 

Later, when they’re in the car on the way home, Tony swallows and asks, “So, uh, did you like Darren?" Tony scrunches his face at himself. He knows it’s a dumb question. He has eyes, saw the exchange, but he needs to hear Misha’s answer.

Misha scoffs and rolls his eyes. "That jerk? No way."

“You don’t think that he’s cute, do you?” They come to a stop at a light. Tony looks over. He doesn’t know why his mouth would ask that question without his permission, but it’s too late to worry about it now.

“He’s not my type. Too bland.” Misha smirks. “You thought he was cute, though, didn’t you?”

“I liked that he liked me.” Tony frowns. “But then he didn’t anymore. Most everyone here likes him, though. He’s _so charming_ , or whatever.”

Misha’s hand makes an aborted movement before he settles back into the passenger seat. “Well, I'm not most people."

‘ _Isn’t that the fucking truth_ ,’ Tony thinks as the light turns green.

//

“Hey, What are you doing?” Tony asks when Misha flops down on the bed with his laptop. They haven’t done any work at all, so he’s sort of surprised to see it now.

“I’m supposed to Skype with my parents in like ten minutes,” Misha replies, booting it up.

“Oh. Well, I’ll go see Taylor, then,” Tony says, standing.

“You don’t have to leave.”

“No, I know. But I haven’t really seen him yet, so I may as well give you some time to yourself.”

“That’s awesome, thanks.” Misha smiles at him. He’s going to get over what that does to him one day, he really is.

“I’ll catch you later.” Tony pauses in his doorway. “Don’t forget to lock the door. My sister.”

“Oh, right,” Misha jumps up and snaps the door closed behind him.

Tony thunders down the stairs. “Hey, mom! Going to see Taylor, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Wear your scarf, Anthony,” his mom calls after him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grabs said scarf on the way out the door.

Taylor’s isn’t home from school yet when he arrives, so Tony sits down on the couch to wait for him. He’s twiddling his scarf between his fingers, lost in thought. Thinking about how he’d thought that Darren broke his heart but how it’s been full of nothing but Misha since Tony first laid eyes on him and how maybe it wasn’t quite so broken after all.

Then, as if he was summoned by Tony’s thoughts, Darren walks into the room. Tony wants to groan, but he manages to pretend that he didn’t notice him arrive.

“Hey, so, why haven't you been answering any of my texts lately?”

“I blocked your number,” Tony replies without looking up from his scarf.

“No you didn’t.” Darren sounds incredulous.

Tony doesn’t say anything in repose, hoping Darren will get the hint. It’s quiet for a minute, and Tony’s just starting to hope that he’s going to leave when, “I saw the way you look at that Russian guy.”

“Cool story,” Tony says, hoping he sounds aloof.

“I’m just saying, there was something sort of familiar about it.”

Tony sighs. He knows that he’s going to regret this, but, “Why’s that?”

“You used to direct it at me.” Darren smirks. “It really sucks for you that he never returns the look, though.”

“Yeah, you sound super bummed.” Tony rolls his eyes. He knows that his feelings aren’t returned, but he doesn’t care for the reminder from this particular asshole.

“I have to tell you,” Darren goes on, like Tony didn’t even say anything, “and I’m sorry to be the one to have to say this, but someone that far out of your league is never going to want you back. So, really, you’re going to have to get over him sooner or later, right?”

Tony can’t believe that Darren wants to have a conversation with him about this. “What do you care about it?”

“It’s just, if you are picking sooner, I can help.”

“Help?” Tony blinks in confusion.

“I mean I can fuck you.”

“Fuck me?”

Yeah, you know. To help you move it all along.” Darren makes a frustrated little noise. “Jesus. You are so dense.”

It makes Tony angry that Darren was hitting on Misha yesterday and now he’s trying this shit. “Why do you think that I would even want to fuck you after all the shitty things you said to me? That you _just_ said to me? After you hit on Misha right in front of me?”

“What does it matter that I hit on him? He doesn’t want you. And nothing I said about you is a lie.” Darren shrugs.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m trying to do you a favor, here, Tone.” He leans against a nearby recliner, scoffs when he adds, “It’s not like I said I wanted it.”

“Don’t call me Tone.” Tony gets that Misha doesn’t return his feelings, but damned if that means he’s going to go running back to this asshole. “You’re so brave and noble to offer something that would obviously be such a chore, but I don’t want to force you to go through the terrible ordeal of having to look at me naked.”

“Tone, c’mon, don’t make this--”

“I said don’t call me Tone!” Tony snaps.

“Fine,  _Tony_ , don’t--”

“Can you tell Taylor I stopped by? Ask him to text me? Thanks.” Tony doesn’t even wait for whatever Darren’s reply is, slipping out the front door into the weak winter sunshine.

  
  
  
“What’s wrong?” Misha asks when he gets back.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Tony throws himself down on the couch, crossing his arms and staring at his feet.

“Hey, don’t do that.” Misha sits down next to him, uses a knuckle to tip his chin up. “You can talk to me about anything, you have to know that by now.”

He’s pretty sure he can’t talk to Misha about this, not all of it anyway. “I ran into Darren and he was a jerk.”

“Ugh, yeah, that totally sucks, because that guy is an asshole, for sure.” Tony is startled into laughter by Misha’s reply.

He’s about to reply how much he agrees when his sister comes into the room and starts begging them to play Wii with her. So that’s what they do, after Tony shoots Misha what he hopes is a grateful look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darren has the worst of his behavior towards Tony in this chapter. Including, but not limited to, hitting on Misha in front of him and an attempt at gaslighting.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s Christmas Eve and Misha has been asleep next to him for ages. His slow, soft breathing pattern is comforting, and it should be enough to help Tony sleep, but it just _isn’t_. His mind is racing a mile a minute because everyone adores Misha (he thinks that his sister might actually prefer Misha between the two of them) and they all keep going on about him and how he should come visit more. He loves the way the words make Misha’s smile go all soft, and it isn’t like Tony can blame them. It’s just.

Well.

They aren’t a thing, and it doesn’t matter how much Tony wants them to be a thing, because Misha is...he’s just homesick and Tony, god, he doesn’t even know how he’s a decent enough replacement for what Misha is missing from back home.

But he’s glad that he is, because he gets this tiny thing right now, where Misha is in his bed and people look at him like they’re glad he can find happiness again, and it’s...nice.

Misha rolls towards him, curling all around him, which is Tony’s favorite part of the night. He should be able to relax now, because--

“Mmm, Tosha...love this.”

Tony freezes. He might have heard that name wrong, but it sounded Russian, and he wonders what fellow Russian Misha likes so much that he’s dreaming about them.

Maybe he’s missing someone from back home? He’s only a little bit hurt that Misha’s never said anything to Tony about Tosha.

But that isn’t really his business, is it? He closes his eyes and sighs. It’s a long time before he manages to fall asleep.

 

 

  
  
Tony wakes up with his face buried in Misha’s chest, which is normal. Misha already awake and watching him is new though. He jerks back, sure that he looks like the total spaz that he is. “I’m sorry, I--”

“Merry your Christmas,” Misha says quietly.

“Merry my Christmas,” Tony replies. There’s still an apology right on the tip of his tongue, but Misha is already talking again.

“Do you think that Santa brought you what you wanted?” Misha asks with a small smirk.

Isn’t that a loaded question. “Well, one always hopes, right?”

“Yeah, right,” Misha’s lips part into this adorable smile, one that he doesn’t recall seeing before. It’s such a gut punch that Tony decides that he has to stop doing this soon, if only for his own good. He can’t continue putting himself through this.

“Can we exchange presents before we go downstairs?” Misha asks, brushing Tony’s hair out of his face. He wants to close his eyes and lean into it _so_ badly.

“Yeah, uh.” Tony clears his throat. “Let’s do that.”

“Great!” Misha tumbles out of bed and crawls over to his suitcase. He starts rooting around in it, which is completely adorable. Tony spends minute caught up in watching him before he remembers that he’s supposed to be doing something too.

He pushes himself up and turns to his end table, pulling out the card inside. Tony knows it’s a good present, but it still feels a little lame to hand Misha a card when he gets an elaborately wrapped box in return.

“Holy shit, did you wrap this yourself?” Tony asks, eyes wide.

Misha laughs. “No way, I paid someone to do it.”

“Oh, thank god, I felt like such an asshole.”

“Go on, open it,” Misha prompts, sitting down next to him. Tony takes a breath as he looks down and rips it open. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it isn’t--

“You found my hat? Where? _How_?”

“I put up fliers around campus,” Misha starts. “And I contacted the athletics department of the last school we played at before you noticed it was missing.”

“How did I not see any fliers?” Tony asks, still looking at the hat in disbelief.

“Well, I didn’t put them in places that you frequent.” Misha is shaking his head when Tony finally stops staring at his hat. “Eventually someone told me that they’d seen it and turns out that it was sitting in a lost and found all this time. There’s also some candy in there, and some other little surprises.”

“T-thanks, Misha.” Tony crumbles it in his hands. He can’t believe it’s back. “Honestly, I don’t even think I can thank you enough.”

“It was nothing,” Misha replies with a little wave of his hand, a bashful smile on his lips.

“Okay, well, open yours,” Tony prompts.

“Where did you find this?” Misha asks after sliding the card out of the envelope.

“Um, on Ebay?” Tony bites his bottom lip for a second, then adds, “I hope the Cyrillic really says Merry Christmas and not, like, ‘I want to eat your dog’ or something.”

Misha is flushing a bit when a startled laugh bursts out of him. “No, it doesn’t. It says Merry Christmas.”

“Oh, good, I’m glad.”

Misha flips the card open. “Is this a gift certificate?”

“I know it doesn’t look right, but it’s to, um, Lacomka? It’s a Russian place like half an hour from campus?” Tony takes a deep breath. “You said that you’ve been missing your babushka’s, um, pelmeni?” It all comes out as questions, but Tony is, he’s just. He doesn’t even know how to explain how the look on Misha’s face is making him feel. “They didn’t even have actual gift certificates, but the lady swore that she’s there every day and would honor it.”

“Tony. This is.” Misha looks at him and there’s something in his eyes. “It’s.” He might be leaning in a bit, but Tony isn’t totally sure that it isn’t just his imagination. “Thank you, so much, I can’t even…” Okay, yeah, he’s definitely leaning in, and maybe Tony wants to lean in too, to see what happens, and so he does and they’re so close, sharing breath even. Misha’s hand cups his jaw, tilting his face gently. Their lips brush together and it feels…

It’s _amazing_. Misha’s lips are plush and they’re so, so _firm_ against Tony’s. He doesn’t even care that he hasn’t brushed his teeth yet, he wants to deepen the ki--

Tony’s door bursts open and they jump apart. “Hurry up, you jerks! It’s time to open presents!”

It’s really too bad that maiming your sister on Christmas day is frowned upon.

//

Misha crowds him into an out of the the way corner that’s behind the buffet table after dinner and asks, “Can we go upstairs?” There’s this pleading look in his eyes and Tony wishes that they could, he really does.

Except. “We have to do the Christmas Story thing.”

“What’s that?” Misha is visibly confused. It’s adorable.

“There’s this movie that gets played for twenty-four hours straight every year at Christmas.” Tony nods towards the living room with his head. “And, after we finish dinner, we watch it together until we all fall asleep on the couch.” Tony sighs. “Sometimes we wake up and go upstairs afterward, but not usually.”

“It’s a tradition?”

“Yeah.” Tony nods. “Every year, for longer than I can remember.” Tony pauses, bites his bottom lip before adding, “You should join us, if you want?”

“I’m invited to your family thing?” Misha looks almost shy. Tony thinks it’s adorable.

“Yeah, of course.” Tony pauses. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, though.”

“Of course I want to.” Misha grabs Tony’s hand. “Let’s get the best spots on the couch!”

Misha is so excited that Tony doesn’t have the heart to tell him that there’s pretty much assigned seating. Luckily, Misha picks the spot next to the one that’s Tony’s, so it all works out.

They’re only about twenty minutes into it when the lack of sleep Tony got last night starts catching up to him. He’s sagging down into the couch, leaning into Misha because his warmth is so inviting. Misha notices, pulling his blanket up and holding his arm out. Tony blushes, but snuggles into Misha, dropping his head onto Misha’s shoulder, relaxing further when Misha’s hand closes around his arm him a minute later.

“This is more comfortable, right?” he asks quietly, smoothing out the blanket with one hand while his other starts drawing little patterns on Tony’s shoulder.

“Yeah, this is good,” Tony whispers back.

“Merry your Christmas, Tony,” Misha mutters into his hair.

“Merry my Christmas, Misha,” Tony echos, sighing when Misha gives him a little nuzzle before turning his attention to the movie.  

Tony tries to concentrate on the movie after that, but his eyes are bleary, and Misha is so freaking comfortable and maybe he’ll just close his eyes for a minute...

//

“Please will you meet me upstairs?” Misha asks in his ear the moment Tony stirs the next morning. His heart speeds up at the words. Tony can’t remember him ever mixing up sentence structure before. It’s super cute.

“Uh, yeah. Lemme, um, I’ll fold up the blankets and meet you in my room?”

“Okay, I’ll brush my teeth and stuff and then wait for you.”

“Yeah, perfect,” Tony agrees. Misha flashes him a small, shy smile, and ugh. He is never going to get used to that.

Misha heads up and Tony stretches before turning his attention to the blankets that everyone else so thoughtlessly left behind.

He doesn’t rush through it, and he absolutely does not stumble up the stairs or trip over the bathroom rug on the way to the sink to wash up. Tony grabs his toothbrush and wets it, squirting toothpaste onto it with a shaky hand. He’s just putting the brush into his mouth when he happens to glance up into the mirror.

And freezes when he gets a good look at himself.

Tony had forgotten. He’d gotten caught up in how it felt to have Misha kiss him and forgotten that he isn’t... _enough_ to get this sort of thing. Forgotten that Ilya said that he’s weird looking and how Misha left the party with him that one time. Tony knows that they didn’t sleep together, but it’s just another reminder that Ilya definitely wants to be with Misha.

Yeah, Misha has dismissed Ilya every time, but he’s Russian and probably a better fit, not to mention there’s still all the stuff that Darren said. He isn’t good looking, and how Misha is out of his league. Misha deserves someone better than just... _him_.

And there’s Ross!

How could he forget about Ross, who is so much better looking than Tony and of course he wants Misha too.

How can Tony be Misha’s choice when he has so many other options to choose from? When he deserves better?

Tony looks down, finishing up his teeth before dropping his toothbrush into his cup. He takes a deep breath, releasing it with a sigh as he crosses to his room.

Misha hardly lets him all the way through the door before he’s closing and locking it. He pushes Tony up against the door, cupping his face, tipping it up towards his own. “God, finally,” he mutters, starting to lean in.

“Why me?” Tony asks.

Misha stops, looking confused. “What?”

“You have...” Tony huffs. “There’s better people you could be kissing. Why would you pick me for this? Do you feel, I dunno, obligated, because I invited you here for Christmas? Because you shouldn’t.”

“Where is this coming from?” Misha shakes his head. “Isn’t it obvious why I want to kiss you?” He pushes his eyebrows together. “And what do you mean better? Who is better than you?”

“No, it isn’t obvious! And everyone!” Tony bites his bottom lip for a second. “But if you need specifics: Ilya is Russian like you and Ross is always talking about hitting on you. I know they both want you. And let’s not forget Darren.”

“I don’t want--”

“And I’m ugly!” Tony doesn’t mean to blurt it out, but he has and so he just has to make do. “None of them are ugly, but I am! My face is pointy and my smile is terrible and you’re out of my league and you could, they are all better, Misha.” He looks down and whispers, “So much better.”

“Hey.” Misha tips his face back up and he’s smiling again. Damn, how is Tony going get over how this makes him feel when Misha moves on? “Tony.”

“What?”

Misha’s reply is to lean in and press his lips to the hinge of Tony’s jaw. “Your jawline is so strong.”

Misha kisses the corner of his left eye. “Your eyes are dark and beautiful.” Tony’s eyes slip closed for a second when Misha mirrors a kiss to his right eye. “And these cheekbones, they’re so...wow.” Misha’s thumbs run back and forth so softly; no one has ever touched Tony like this.

“I love the tip of your nose and how it comes to a perfect point.” Tony’s throat is dry and he swallows as Misha brushes their noses together.

“I sleep in your bed, holding you, like every night. I touch you every chance I get and I never want to leave your side.” He leans in. “You can’t honestly think that I want anyone else,” Misha says, their lips almost brushing.

It’s a convincing argument, except. “Um, what about Tosha?”

“Huh?” Misha pulls back, blinks at him.

“Tosha, you said something about loving this with Tosha when you were asleep the other night. So, you have to want, I dunno, someone.”

Misha chuckles softly.

“What?”

“Tosha is you, silly. It’s a Russian nickname. For Tony.”

“Oh.” Tony just blinks up at him. He’s pretty sure that he heard all the words right. Properly. And there’s the way Misha’s looking at him, and the...Tony has a pet name. It all seems too good to be true, that this is something that’s just happened.

Misha _really does_ want him.

“Can I kiss you now, or?”

“Oh, um. Yes.” Tony tips his face up, wanting to meet Misha halfway.

Misha has other plans. He pauses again, this time running a thumb across Tony’s bottom lip. “Actually, you deserve to hear me say this: the only someone I want is you, got it?”

“O-okay.” Tony replies.

“Okay,” Misha repeats on a sigh into his lips, his grip on Tony’s jaw tightening.

Tony melts into the way that it feels to have Misha pressed along every inch of him. He pushes back, just a bit, opening his mouth when Misha’s tongue runs along his bottom lip, whines when Misha bites gently at it.

Tony curls his fingers into Misha’s hair, which is just as soft as it looks, and decides to take a little initiative, deepening the kiss.

“Jesus, you’re such a good kisser,” Misha says when he finally pulls back. He’s a little out of breath and sort of a mess, all bitten lips and hair going in every direction.

Tony _did_ that.

He blinks and his face heats when he realizes what Misha said. “Oh, I am?”

“Yeah.” Misha brushes a caress across his cheek, then grabs his hand. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

Tony really wants to, but also, “Oh, shit. We can’t.”

“We can’t?” Misha sounds disappointed. Tony is too, honestly.

“No, we have to meet Taylor for breakfast.”

“We could cancel.”

“I wish we could,” Tony sighs.

“Another tradition?” Misha asks. Tony nods. “Too many traditions,” he mutters under his breath.

Tony couldn’t agree more.

//

Tony gets a text when they’re getting out of the car from Taylor that says that he’s already seated, so they head right in and search the restaurant for him.

“Jesus, he _does_ looks like Boris’ Taylor.” Tony follows Misha’s line of sight.

“Heh, yeah. Told you.” Tony threads their fingers together. “Is this okay?”

“Of course it is.” Misha looks fond.

Tony isn’t sure how he didn’t recognize it before. Well, he has an idea, but today is a happy day. He squeezes Misha’s fingers and leads him through the maze of tables. “Hey, Taylor,” he says as they slide into the booth.

“Hey,” he answers. He isn’t looking at Tony, though. Maybe it’s a trait he shares with his brother. “So you’re Misha.”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Misha smiles as Taylor’s eyes narrow a bit. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Tony’s told me so much about you.” He offers his hand.

“I might have heard a thing or two about you, too,” Taylor replies, accepting the hand.

“Good things, I hope.” Misha winks at Tony, who blushes. Taylor visibly relaxes at the exchange.

“Yeah, yeah,” Taylor waves the conversation away. “But there’s only one question that matters right now.”

“What’s that?” Misha cocks his head.

“French toast or pancakes?”

Tony’s eyes go wide as he looks over at Misha. Taylor is _not_ messing around if he’s already asking this question.

“Psh, that’s easy. Pancakes.”

“You’re a good man,” Taylor says, like pancakes over french toast is the only thing that matters in life. It totally _is_ all that matters to Taylor, but it’s completely ridiculous.

Tony might know a thing or two about being ridiculous.

“So,” Taylor starts once their food arrives, “what’s the best thing you got for Christmas?”

“Tony,” Misha replies.

Tony inhales a marshmallow from the hot chocolate he’d been taking a drink of and starts choking.

“Hey, are you okay?” Misha asks, patting him on the back.

“Y-yeah. Yep.” Tony coughs a bit, tries to clears his throat. “I’m fine.”

“Sorry about that,” Misha presses a gentle kiss to Tony’s cheek. “I’ll warn you next time. He turns back to Taylor. “So, yeah. Tony,” he confirms, hooking his foot around Tony’s and picking up his fork.

Misha shares his food, offering little bites and pointing for tastes of Tony’s breakfast too. That is, when he isn’t doting over Tony and pressing little kisses to anywhere he can reach.

“I’ll be right back,” Misha says, excusing himself from the table once they’ve finished eating.

“Jesus, Tony. He’s so much better than Darren.”

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” Tony replies, watching Misha weave his way through the booths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pelmeni is so freaking good, guys.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the teeny rating bump :)

“Well, we’re off!” Tony’s mom calls from the front door.

“Okay, don’t forget to drink water!” Tony replies from his place on the couch next to Misha. It’s become one of his favorite places, to be honest.

“Thanks for the reminder,” she answers with a small laugh.

“Do we have to go to that New Year’s Eve party?” Misha whines into Tony’s neck before the door has even latched behind them. “Can’t we just stay here and watch that terrible show?”

“How many times have you seen it to know it’s terrible?” Tony asks. His mouth twitches but he forces it down. He isn’t quite ready for smiling yet.

“I’ve heard rumors.”

“Ah, I see.” Tony brings a hand up so he can run his fingers through Misha’s hair. Tony understands where he’s coming from. They’ve had a whole week of stolen kisses between family traditions and falling into bed exhausted every night. Sleepy cuddles and falling asleep tucked into Misha's arms is amazing, but maybe they’re itching for more at this point. “We don't have to go if you don’t want. Taylor will understand.”

“Are you sure?” Misha looks up at him. “I don’t want him mad that we blew off his party.”

“It’s his parents’ party. He won’t care. We can just catch up with him before we go back to school.” Tony sends off a text. “There, done.”

“Cool.” Misha snuggles back into his neck. They’re quiet for a few heartbeats before Misha asks, “When do you think your sister will leave?”

“We can go upstairs now,” Tony says.

Misha smiles at his suggestion and threads their fingers together.

They stumble up the stairs and into his room. He pauses to lock the door.

“Oh, good idea,” Misha says.

“Glad you approve,” Tony says, tipping upwards. He’s so ready to--

Misha places a finger on his lips. “We can’t kiss until midnight.”

“What?” Tony presses his eyebrows together, frowns. “Why not?”

“It’s bad luck to kiss before midnight.”

“We...kissed earlier?”

“That was before the cutoff,” Misha smirks at him.

“There’s a cutoff?”

“Yes!” Misha pulls him into a hug. “Now, let’s put on our pajamas and watch the horrible tv show.”

Tony sighs through his nose, but goes about changing and climbing into his bed. He’s just finished settling the covers and is picking up the remote when Misha climbs in behind him. He threads his arm around Tony, snuggling in close, and how did Tony not recognize this for what it is either? He really is a total idiot.

He spends the next almost-two-hours trying to pay attention to crappy pop singers lip syncing to their auto-tune while Misha’s fingers grip at his hips. And he nuzzles into Tony’s neck. And his hand drags slowly up and down his side. And--

He definitely isn’t going to remember any of the performances tomorrow.

There’s about a minute left in the countdown when Misha pulls away. Tony’s complaint dies on his lips when Misha tugs him onto his back and straddles his hips. Misha props himself up on his elbows. His eyes are dark when he takes Tony’s face in his hands.

“I hope you know that you were worth every minute I waited to kiss you.”

Tony swallows. “Y-yeah?”

Misha nods. “I was actually going to kiss you tonight and hope that you kissed me back, but I got lucky and you gave me the most amazing present on your Christmas and I knew that I didn’t have to wait any longer.” Misha runs his thumb along Tony’s cheekbone.

“They’re at two,” Tony says, when the number somehow breaks through to him.

“I know.” Misha leans in. “...one. Happy New Year.” Their lips meet and it’s like...Tony doesn’t want to say something as cliche as fireworks, especially when they’re going off on tv, but it’s soft and then it, it _isn’t_ , and Tony wants more. He parts his lips and Misha quickly accepts his invitation.Tony moans into his mouth and threads his fingers into Misha’s hair. He wants to keep kissing him forever, but he feels like he’s neglected something here. He tightens his fingers in Misha’s hair, tugging until he reluctantly breaks the kiss. Misha sits up and looks down at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks between breaths.

“I just wanted to say Happy New Year to you too,” Tony answers.

“Is that all?”

“No.” Tony shakes his head, Misha raises his eyebrows.

“What else?”

“Can you...” Tony’s fingers play along the bottom hem of Misha’s shirt. “Take this off?”

“You too, though,” Misha says, grinning as he pulls his shirt off and tosses it away. Tony struggles out of his own, sending it in the same general direction. Misha drops back down. “Do you have any idea...” Misha presses his lips to the space over Tony’s heart, “how long I’ve wanted to get my mouth on you?”

Tony’s eyes drop closed. “N-no.”

“Since the first time you walked out of our bathroom without a shirt on.”

Tony’s eyes pop back open and he pushes up a bit. “Are you...serious?”

“Wanted to kiss you before that, but, god, you’re so broad and beautiful and I.” He squeezes Tony’s hips, whispers, “Wow.”

“I still can’t believe you really think this way about me.”

“You will.”

Tony pulls him into a kiss, but it doesn’t take long for Misha’s lips to trail downward. Down his jaw and into his neck. A little hiss escapes Tony when he bites harder than Tony expects.

“Sorry,” he mutters, ghosting a light apology kiss over it before he continues on his way down.

He maps a slow, wet trail down Tony’s torso, lingering over each mark along the way. He pays particular attention the the mole on the underside of Tony’s chest, not moving on until Tony starts to squirm a bit.

Misha looks up, maintains eye contact with him for a couple beats before his attention goes back to Tony’s torso. His fingers dive into Misha’s hair and he squeezes, trying not to arch into the sensation of Misha’s fingers playing along the line of his pajama pants.

“Can I?”

“Y-yeah. Yes. If you want to.” Tony feels like an ass for babbling, but Misha’s smiling at him and pushing his pants down. “What about you?” He doesn’t know where he’s getting all of this nerve to ask these things, but he sure likes the way that Misha’s face lights up at this particular question.

“Oh, good idea.” Misha kicks off his pants, not really taking his eyes off of Tony. “God, that is beautiful,” Misha breaths, wrapping his hand around Tony’s dick.

“Oh. Shit.” Tony places a hand on top of Misha’s. “Maybe we shouldn’t start with that. His face heats when he adds, “Not if you want this to last.”

“Maybe it doesn’t need to last.” Tony’s dick twitches, Misha looks down at it with a smirk. “But fine.” He runs his hands up Tony’s stomach and chest, his hands settling on Tony’s shoulders when he adds,”but where is the lube, just for reference?”

“In the drawer.” Tony uses his head to indicate to the end table without breaking eye contact. He never wants to stop looking now that he knows he’s allowed to. And maybe Misha feels the same, because he roots around in the drawer without looking away.

“Are you sure,” he starts, twiddling the small tube in his fingers, “you wanna wait?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Tony whines, squirming under Misha.

“Oh, I think you do know.” Misha snicks it open, squirts some into his hand. “And maybe I think you deserve to have this right now.”

“Um. Y-you do?” Tony stutters out, his eyes zeroing in on how Misha’s fingers are rubbing together. Warming it, sort of the same way that Tony’s entire body is.

“Uh huh.” Misha drops back down to one elbow, his face is hovering over Tony’s. “I mean, not if you don’t want to, but--”

“I do want to!” Tony blushes. “I just don’t want to embarrass myself.”

“You’re going to put your amazing, big hands on me too.” Misha brushes a kiss over the tip of his nose. “I’m pretty sure we’ll be in the same place.” He pauses. “Here, gimmie...”He takes Tony’s hand, tangling their fingers together, spreading the lube. It shouldn’t be hot, but…

“Touch me. Please,” Misha begs quietly, guiding Tony’s hand downward. The way he hisses through his teeth when Tony slowly wraps his fingers around it might be distracting, except Tony is too caught up in what is honestly the best looking dick he’s ever seen.

It isn’t like he’s seen a whole lot, but still. It’s lovely.

“Can I kiss you?” Tony asks. He arches with another little whine when Misha’s hand closes on his dick again.

“You fucking better,” Misha answers. Tony runs his free hand into Misha’s hair, pulling their lips together. He slides his tongue into Misha’s mouth at the same time that Misha shifts ever so slightly, threading their fingers into a joint grip.

“Oh, god, that’s--”

“Y-yeah.”

Tony’s senses narrow to Misha’s mouth on his and the way that they are moving together oh, so perfectly. Hardly a minute passes before they give up on kisses and instead are breathing into one another’s mouths, eyes locked. Tony has never felt this much before, and it’s.

It’s--

“You look fucking stunning like this,” Misha says, his eyes all intense and dark, even darker than before...and it’s too much. Tony throws his head back and comes. Misha buries his face in Tony’s neck, falling over right after him. “God, so good.”

“Um. Yeah. That was. Really good.”

Misha pulls his head back, looks at Tony. He looks a little like he’s drunk, his eyes are glassy and he has this huge smile on his face. “You liked?”

“Yeah. It was…” Tony looks at him, trying to decide how truthful to be here. He finally decides on, “Best I’ve ever had until we’re ready for round two.”

Misha laughs as he leans in for another kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

_Three weeks later_

 

Misha jolts awake when someone starts knocking furiously on the door.

“Ugh, let’s just wait for them to leave,” Tony whines, curling closer.

“It’s probably Ilya, and we both know he won’t go away without me telling him to. He’s annoying like that.” Misha runs a hand through Tony’s hair. “I’ll just tell him to leave so we can get back to this.”

“Promise?”

“Of course I do.” Misha tips Tony’s face up for a quick peck before he gathers up the sheet, wrapping it loosely around his waist. The knocks start up again just as he’s reaching for the knob. “Jesus, just wait a sec-- What are you doing here?”

“Why are you answering the door in just a sheet?” Darren asks. “Did you sexile Tony? What the fuck, man?” Misha hears Tony rustling over on the bed.

“Hold on a minute.” Misha slams the door in his face.

“Hey, what the hell?!” Darren demands through the door before he starts knocking again.

“I said hold on!” Misha calls back, heading towards the bed and where Tony is sitting, his eyes are wide and he looks a little panicked. “Hey, hey.” He cups Tony’s face, their eyes lock. “You’re fine, _it’s fine_ , I promise.”

“What do you think he’s doing here? W-why would he…?” Tony shakes his head. “I don’t want him here.”

“That makes two of us. Let’s get dressed and take care of this, okay?”

Tony nods. They gather up their clothes, dressing quickly and rushing to brush their teeth. Misha grabs his hand after they step out of the bathroom. “Do you want to let him in, or should I?”

“Um. I will.” Tony visibly swallows and Misha just wants to hold him. And maybe punch Darren for making him look like this. He just squeezes Tony’s hand and presses his lips to Tony’s forehead.

Tony leans into him for a minute before opening the door.

“You’re here? Why did he answer the door dressed like that, if--” His eyes go wide. “Why is your hair such a mess?”

“Why don’t you come in, Darren,” Tony sounds annoyed; Misha can’t blame him. Darren stomps past Tony before he pauses to take a look around. First at Misha’s perfectly made bed before his eyes shift to Tony’s. Misha wants to grin at the way his eyes narrow when he sees the sheet crumbled there.  

“Are you actually fucking him?” Darren snarls. At Misha, not Tony.

“I think that’s actually not any of your business,” Misha replies.

“Tony is my--”

“Your ex. I’m your ex and nothing else,” Tony interrupts him. “So Misha is right. It isn’t your business what we do. Or don’t do. At all.” Tony crosses his arms. “There must be some reason that you drove eight hours to be here, so enlighten us.”

“I had to come because you still have my number blocked.”

“I’m not going to unblock it, so…” Tony waves him on.

“Can he leave?” Darren thumbs at Misha.

“He lives here too.”

“Well, can we go somewhere and--”

“No, you can tell me whatever it is here, or _you_ can leave.” Tony shrugs. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

Darren huffs, throws his head, and looks up at the ceiling. He’s posturing, for sure, and now Misha _really_ wants to punch this asshole. Instead, he settles for stepping around Darren, taking Tony’s hand and enjoying the way that Darren zeros in on the action and frowns.

“Look, Tony, I was wrong about breaking up. School has been terrible and I miss you. I tried to tell you that we should get back together at Christmas break, and you just didn’t get it.”

“That is not what you said to me,” Tony replies with a little snort.

Misha wants to know what it was that Darren said to Tony, but this isn’t the time, especially because Darren is already talking again.

“You have to know how much you mean to me.”

“I know that you think that I’m cute-ish in a goofy way, that my face is pointy. That I’m good for a pity fuck because I’m not ever going to be wanted. Oh, and, that I shouldn’t smile, right?” Tony glances at Misha and back. “But anyway, it wouldn’t work out. No one stays with their high school sweetheart, Dare. I would definitely cheat on you...and mean to.”

“But, Tony, I--”

“I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing,” Misha interrupts. “Maybe you can take a campus tour so you didn’t waste your time?” He cocks his head, smiles. “I can even take you to the union so you don’t get lost!”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, th--”

“Of course it is, I don’t want to be a bad host.” Misha looks over at Tony. “I won’t be long.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tony replies. He brushes at Misha’s cheek for a second before cupping Misha’s neck to pull him in for a slow, lingering kiss. “Hurry back?”

“Of course I will,” Misha smiles down at him for a couple of heartbeats.

Darren looks like he’s chewing on a lemon when Misha turns his attention back. It suits him.

“Let’s go, then!” Misha says cheerfully. They don’t say a word down the elevator, through the lobby or even for the first hundred yards or so outside. It’s Darren who breaks the silence.

“Look, Misha.” Darren stops, frowns a bit. “It’s Misha, right?”

“Mikhail.”

“I’m pretty sure that Tony said Misha before.” His frown deepens.

“People I like can call me Misha.” Misha lets his face screw up in disgust as he gives Darren a once-over. “ _You_ get Mikhail.”

“Fine. _Mikhail_. Tony might be having fun with you right now, but that’s just because you showed him some attention. He’ll remember that he belongs to me. Maybe not tomorrow or next week, but he will. He is not _yours_.”

“You’re right.”

“I kno-- Wait, what?”

“Not that bullshit where you said that he’s yours, but the bit where you said that he isn’t mine. He isn’t anyone’s because he isn’t property, bitch ass.”

“Bitch ass?” Darren looks dumbfounded, and actually, that’s what suits him.

Misha starts to leave, but turns back. “Oh, I didn’t thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“Yeah, for picking your dream school without telling Tony.” Misha grins. “I got a really good roommate out of it.” Darren is trying to stutter out some reply, but Misha doesn’t really have any more time for this shithead. “You know, maybe you shouldn’t take the school tour after all, I don’t want you to get back to your own too late.”

“I don’t want to take the tour,” Darren’s face is scrunched up. He’s mistaken if he thinks that it’s intimidating.

“One more thing,” Misha starts, stepping right up into Darren’s space. “if you ever knock on my door and try and pick up my boyfriend right in front of me again, I’ll break your fucking face.”

Misha thinks he can still hear Darren trying to come up with a reply when he gets back to the lobby door.

  
  
  
Tony looks up from his bed when Misha walks back into the room. “God, that was terrible.”

“You were amazing,” Misha replies, sitting down next to Tony.

“I can’t believe that he would show up here and...I’m sorry that you had to deal with that.”

“I would deal with anything for you, and besides, it isn’t your fault.” He takes Tony’s hand. “You aren’t responsible for him.”

“I know, I’m just…” Tony shrugs and falls silent.

“Why were you with him, though?” Misha grimaces. Maybe that was a little too direct. “I mean, he can’t have always been so terrible, right?”

“I dunno. I was fifteen and someone older was interested in me.” Tony shakes his head. “I never really thought about it at the time, but I guess he could have been nicer, even back then.”

“You definitely deserve better than him.”

“Well, I have that now.” Tony flushes and it’s so lovely. Misha would look at it all day every day if he could. He reaches out and runs a couple knuckles along Tony’s pink cheekbone.

“Hey, you know that I love you, right?” he asks softly.

Tony’s face breaks into a smile, and, much like all the other things he thought about himself before, he’s wrong about what his smile looks like. Misha can tell when he realizes what he’s done, because his eyes blow wide and he ducks his head. Misha reaches out and gently tips his face back up.

“Your smile is beautiful, just like I knew it would be.”

“It, um, is?”

“Yeah,” Misha replies, brushing his thumb along the corner of Tony’s mouth.

“I-I love you too,” Tony replies.

Misha leans in, smiling into their kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥
> 
> Thanks to my beta, who remains the best ♥♥

**Author's Note:**

> Tony's ex is a total POS who tries to gaslight him pretty much any chance he gets. He's going to say and do some pretty garbage things to Tony. I don't know for certain that he was a shithead in the past, but he sure is now. So, if that's an issue for you, please be careful. ♥


End file.
